


visions are seldom all they seem

by sagansjagger



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Is Sunshine, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir and Food, Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Feed Adrien Agreste, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Light Angst, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Oblivious Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Romance, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29127939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagansjagger/pseuds/sagansjagger
Summary: Tales far and wide speak of the amazing Princess Marinette, a kind-hearted royal as clever and resourceful as she is beautiful. In order to best serve and protect her kingdom, she is betrothed from childhood to a prince of a distant land -- one she has only met once, when he was an infant.Marinette, posing as Ladybug to the commoners, is resolved to do right by her kingdom. But one chance encounter with a dashing rogue and the heat of his eighteenth summer sparks a fire in her heart that wages war with the obligations of her post.Helplessly, she falls in love with the mysterious Chat Noir. And her troubles only continue to grow, as there is a long-standing curse waiting in the wings to take place...A Miraculous Ladybug Disney's Sleeping Beauty AU. Updates on Sundays.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 85
Kudos: 53
Collections: February 2021 - Rewrite a classic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is, as the summary says, a Disney's Sleeping Beauty AU. The plot closely follows the original movie until it doesn't, with a two-year detour for our two dorks to fall in love with each other. Then we jump back into the movie again, with all the canon-typical violence Disney can offer.
> 
> The story is complete and will update on Sundays.
> 
> Now that I've laid out all the surprises, on with the show! Thank you for reading and enjoy!
> 
> -Cass

_In a far away land, long ago, lived a king and his fair queen. Many years had they longed for a child and finally their wish was granted. A son was born, and they called him Adrien. Even at his birth, he filled their lives with sunshine._

_Then a great holiday was proclaimed throughout the kingdom, so that all of high or low estate may pay homage to the infant prince. And our story begins on that most joyful day…_

As her parents’ carriage bumped along the cobblestone street, six-year-old Princess Marinette didn’t know what to think.

She was being dragged all the way to a neighboring kingdom of God-knows-where--France, her father had said--to pay homage? What the heck did that even mean? And to a baby, of all people. Marinette figured she had no business “paying homage” to a baby. Babies should be left alone to squall and poop; paying homage to one sounded uncomfortable for everyone involved.

She peeked out the little, square window of the carriage. Its pace had slowed to a crawl as the driver navigated the crowded market streets, so Marinette was free to marvel at the sights. 

Thatch-roofed cottages seemed to be shoved against each other, almost landing on top of one another. The streets were paved with cobblestones and looked like they’d recently been washed; Marinette couldn’t smell any dust, anyway.

Marinette had taken a bath before traveling (and after playing in the mud, so very much unlike a princess, her father had said), so she should still smell fine. She lifted her arm as best she could in the cramped carriage, like she'd seen adults do, and took a whiff. She didn’t smell _bad_ , just her normal scent of clean sweat, travel dust, and starched clothes. Satisfied that she was as clean as she should be, Marinette went back to observing the city.

The city was alive and happy. City people swarmed around the carriage, purchasing flowers and clothes, going about their daily lives as well as any of them could, loving or hating their neighbors, and generally ignoring the poorest among them. 

Marinette was fascinated with the “commonwealth,” whatever that meant. She wanted the best for the people she would be ruling someday. They deserved the best. 

There were no trees or yards until Marinette’s carriage arrived in the richest neighborhoods. Pretty, green trees with their trunks painted white stood in rows fenced in by black wrought iron. The grass looked perfectly trimmed, which Marinette thought was silly.

The palace, with its glass spires and twisted towers so delicate they could only have been constructed by magic, loomed in Marinette’s vision outside the little window of the carriage. Her kingdom of England was rich, but Marinette had still never seen so much gold, especially not lining the bricks of a building. It glinted in the strong summer sunlight, nearly blinding her.

 _The nobles here breathe riches,_ she thought, glancing around at the other rich people that had been invited to pay homage to the baby. 

Servants in colorful livery and holding flags marched outside other carriages, which were all gorgeous, locked boxes that kept their contents well-hidden. One servant looked like a peacock, with feathers sprouting from their back.

Marinette laughed.

“What’s so funny, sweetling?” Tom Dupain, the king of England, leaned forward and ruffled her hair. 

“Tom,” Sabine Cheng said, smoothing her hands over Marinette’s scalp. “Don’t mess up her hair.”

Marinette ignored her mother’s smoothing as best she could, focusing on her father. “One of the servants looks like a bird. Squawk, squawk!”

Tom’s eyes twinkled. “I bet a great many servants will look like birds. Squawk!”

“Oh, Tom,” Sabine said, sighing even as she smiled. “You’re so indulgent.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “What’s ‘indulgent’?”

“It means I’m too nice.” Tom winked at his daughter. “Never you mind, though. Are you looking forward to seeing Prince Adrien?”

Marinette couldn’t lie to her father. “No, Papa. Babies are cute, but this is a lot of fuss just for one prince.”

Sabine tutted. “People made this much fuss when you were born, Marinette.”

Marinette was tempted to blow a raspberry at that, but she knew she had to “comport herself with dignity befitting a princess,” which basically meant her mom would tsk at her if she did.

Instead, she leaned her head back against the cushions and pretended to take a nap. 

Soon, she wasn’t pretending.

***

Marinette was unable to whittle, her usual method of passing the time, for fear of littering the gold-inlaid tile of baby Adrien’s summer palace with wood shavings. The floor was the most complicated pattern she’d ever seen in her life, with tiny blue and purple tiles placed with care in a swirl. 

Looking at it gave her a headache, so she looked at the walls instead. They, too, were made of rich-people’s wood, covered in expensive-looking tapestries showing the usual scenes of soldiers marching off to war or nobles hunting boars. The palace even smelled rich; lavender and some sort of cleaning agent oozed from the walls.

Marinette’s seat, despite being made of wood and red velvet, was terribly small and uncomfortable. Looking down on the people who’d chosen to invest in a glorious, golden floor rather than a bigger chair didn’t even occur to Marinette. She was more concerned with when she’d get to see the baby so she could go home and whether she’d ever stop sweating in the overly-warm palace. 

Clearly her mother had overdressed her. The dress was a stiff bunch of fabric she wouldn’t have chosen herself. But her mother used to be a peasant, so she was always worried about making a good impression on people who had been born to royalty, like King Gabriel and Queen Emilie. 

Marinette would have rather been a peasant. She was always encouraged to embroider or play piano or study languages. 

Boring, boring, boring.

But there were upsides to being a princess, too. She had her own archery and sword-fighting teachers because Tom had insisted she be able to fight for herself. She didn’t have to do chores. And she could eat whatever she wanted whenever she felt like it.

Sword practice was the best. Marinette dreamed of the day she’d be able to join her father on a boar hunt or something, like the tapestries showed. She didn’t know if he’d ever gone on a boar hunt, but it sounded like something a king should enjoy doing.

By the time their little family was called in to the main room, Marinette had started picking at the threads of her dress--trying to do so secretly so as not to be sighed at by her mom. 

_Finally,_ Marinette thought, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She stood from her uncomfortable chair and followed her mother into the throne room of the palace where everyone who had come before had gathered.

The Lord Duke who announced them had a jiggly belly. Marinette was mighty tempted to reach out and poke him, but she refrained because he was just doing his job and shouldn’t be distracted.

“Their royal highnesses, King Tom Dupain, Queen Sabine Cheng, and Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” the Lord Duke called, gesturing them into the chamber. 

Her father walked straight up to King Gabriel and bowed to him. Gabriel stood and welcomed the family with open arms, embracing Tom.

Marinette thought Gabriel looked like a killjoy. But he was hugging her father and making him laugh, so Gabriel clearly couldn’t be all bad.

Marinette’s eyes wandered around the room. The walls were solid gold, and the floor was the same headache-inducing pattern as the floor in the hallway. The overlapping smells of perfumes from all the nobles were sick-making, but the scents of a huge feast on tables lining the sides of the room were delicious. The combination made Marinette heady.

Sabine gently pushed Marinette onward towards the cradle. Marinette nearly stumbled; she was madly clumsy in her normal, everyday life, much less in a starched dress with a cinch around the waist. Sabine reached out and caught her by the shoulder with a knowing smile, and Marinette felt her cheeks grow hot. 

Finally, she made it over to the bassinet holding the tiny person they’d all come to see. Adrien looked like a fragile, little doll. He was swaddled in a purple blanket with gold trimming that seemed like it was about to swallow him up. He was nearly bald, with only a wisp of blond hair spread like thin mortar across his misshapen head. His face was squished and red, and if he weren’t asleep, Marinette knew he’d be whining for something. 

She wrinkled her nose.

 _This is who we came to see?_ she thought, huffing. _The food is more interesting than him._

“The most honored and exalted excellencies, the three good fairies,” the Lord Duke called, and Marinette whipped her head towards the doorway to the hall, seeing no one, “Mistress Mylène, Mistress Rose, and Mistress Alix!”

On cue, a beam of heavenly light flowed down from the stained glass windows. The fairies arrived with sparkles, floating down into the throne room and landing on the floor. One had pink hair and was dressed in a green gown, the other was a blonde wearing blue, and the third still had dreadlocks of all sorts of colors in a red dress. 

Marinette had never seen a real fairy before. “How important is this baby?” she whispered to her mother, who shushed her and dragged her away from the cradle.

The fairies flew towards the cradle by the throne and immediately started gushing. “Oh, the little darling!” the blonde said, before they as one turned to curtsey to King Gabriel and Queen Emliie. “Your majesties.”

“Each of us the child may bless with a single gift. No more, no less,” the one with dreadlocks said, and floated over to the cradle. “Little prince, my gift shall be the gift of beauty.”

 _He sure needs that,_ Marinette thought, huffing. She folded her arms, but her mother took her hand to get her to unfold them.

The one with dreadlocks, Mistress Mylène, Marinette remembered, raised her wand and waved it, which made sparkles fly up in the air. 

_Oooh,_ Marinette thought. _Magic!_

Marinette was spellbound. The magic flowed into the cradle, blanketing the little boy with glittery light. 

“One gift, beauty rare,” Mylène sang softly, swinging her wand back and forth. “Full of sunshine in his hair. Lips that shame the red, red rose, he’ll walk with springtime wherever he goes.”

_Neat!_

Mistress Rose, the blonde, flew to the cradle next. She had a squeaky voice, which almost made Marinette laugh. But Marinette figured she shouldn’t laugh at a fairy, so she kept her mouth shut. “Tiny prince, my gift shall be the gift of song.”

Rose, too, waved her wand and covered the prince in sparkles. “One gift, the gift of song.” Rose’s voice was a clear as a brook as she sang. “Melody his whole life long. The nightingale's his troubadour, bringing a sweet serenade to his door.”

 _The gift of song? Singing is useless,_ Marinette thought, nearly rolling her eyes. _Better to give him the gift of shooting a bow or something._

Lastly, Mistress Alix flew to the cradle and hovered in front of it. “Sweet prince, my gift shall be the--”

A gust of wind blew the doors to the castle open. Lightning and thunder roared, and Marinette covered her ears from the booming sounds. Flags whipped in the wind. She stared straight ahead as a woman dressed in blue and pink appeared in a ball of navy blue fire, followed by her pet raven, who landed on her fan. 

_Is she another fairy?_ Marinette thought, feeling herself rooted to the spot. The woman oozed evil; Marinette’s heart ached to find a sword and fight, but her body kept her frozen in terror.

Rose gasped. “Why, it’s Mayura!”

“What does she want here?” Alix whispered, but Mylène shushed them both. 

“Well, quite a glittering assemblage, King Gabirel.” Mayura smiled icily. She gestured around the room. “Royalty. Nobility. The gentry. And--” She chuckled. “--How quaint. Even the rabble.” She made a sweeping motion towards the other fairies.

 _What’s rabble mean?_ Marinette thought, furrowing her brow. _What’s an assemblage?_

Alix started forward, her face twisted in a sneer, but Mylène held her back. 

Mayura continued. “I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.” Her smile hadn’t left her blue, blue lips. Even her skin was blue, Marinette thought. _Creepy._

Alix shook off the concerned arm of her friend. “You weren’t wanted!”

Mayura’s eyes widened. “Not wa--?” she started, her mouth opening up into an ‘o’ of surprise. Then she chuckled again. “Oh, dear, what an awkward situation. I had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. Well, in that event, I’d best be on my way.”

 _Is she going to leave?_ Marinette thought, cocking her head to the side. The evil fairy didn’t _seem_ like she was going to leave, but what did Marinette know about the minds and wills of fairies?

Queen Emilie stepped forward. “And you’re not offended, your excellency?”

“Why, no, your majesty,” Mayura said, bowing her head. “And to show I bear no ill will, I, too, shall bestow a gift on the child.” 

Her smile became a wicked smirk, and Marinette’s instincts flared to life and demanded that she move. She _had_ to protect Adrien. She must! Marinette tried to fling herself in front of the cradle, but her mother still had a grip on her shoulder and roughly dragged her back. 

“Marinette!” her mother whispered. “What are you doing?”

“The b-baby...” Marinette whimpered. Her mother’s grip was too tight! “She’s going to--”

“Listen well, all of you!” Blue flames licked Mayura’s fan. “The prince shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who adore him.” Marinette couldn’t take her eyes off the witch. “But before the sun sets on his twentieth birthday, he shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel…”

She swirled her hand around her fan, and a vision of monsters and a spinning wheel appeared in the orb. Marinette bit back a terrified gasp. “And die!” 

The last image showed Prince Adrien--or someone who could be Prince Adrien--on his deathbed. Marinette set her jaw, grinding her teeth. This witch had to go down. Marinette wouldn’t allow anything to happen to the precious Adrien.

“Oh, no!” Queen Emilie cried, ripping Adrien out of the cradle and cupping the back of his head against her shoulder. Mayura laughed triumphantly as the baby began screaming.

King Gabriel pointed at Mayura. “Seize that creature!”

“Stand back you, fools!” Mayura spread her arms up in the air. Blue fire exploded out from her. The guards--and Marinette--watched in shock and fear as Mayura disappeared in a flash of lighting, cackling, as her raven flew out of the castle.

Tears pricked Marinette’s eyes. She’d only met Adrien, and now he was cursed to die? He was just a baby! _He didn’t do anything wrong!_ She turned to her mother, throwing herself against her legs. Marinette wrapped her arms around Sabine’s waist and buried her nose in her mother’s belly. 

“It’s not fair!” Marinette’s voice was muffled by Sabine’s dress, but the girl’s wail was loud enough to be shushed. Marinette choked out a sob. Adrien was still crying; there was no reason she shouldn’t be, too.

“Don’t despair, your majesties,” Mylène said, and Marinette jerked her head up to see the fairy gesturing to her friend. “Alix still has her gift to give.”

“Then she can undo this fearful curse?” Gabriel said, placing his hand over his heart.

 _Oh, please!_ Marinette thought, hope curling in her chest. Adrien’s piercing cry rang out among the stone and gold bricks, bouncing off the walls and tiled floor. _Please say she can!_

“Oh, no, sire,” Alix said, and Marinette’s hope plummeted down like a stone in her gut falling to the floor. Nausea punched her in the throat; she gripped her mother’s dress even tighter, until her fists were white and bloodless. 

“Mayura’s powers are far too great,” Mylène said, and Marinette’s breath hitched twice. She was crying for real now, tears streaming freely down her too-hot cheeks.

Then Rose said something that cracked the stone of Marinette’s hope wide open again. “But she can help!”

Alix looked uncertain, twisting her wand in her hands. “But--” 

Rose laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder, her wings fluttering. “Just do your best, dear.”

Mylène gestured towards the cradle, where the queen had laid the squalling Adrien. “Yes, go on.”

Alix approached the cradle. Marinette bit her lip. “Sweet prince,” the fairy said, waving her wand. Adrien calmed, but still hiccuped a couple of times. “If through this wicked witch's trick a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give at thee.”

Marinette released Sabine from her death grip and stepped forward, her lips slightly parted. All her attention was narrowed down to the end of Alix’s sparkling wand. “Not in death, but just in sleep the fateful prophecy you’ll keep,” Alix said and a rush of gratitude overwhelmed Marinette. “And from this slumber you shall wake when true love’s kiss the spell shall break.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose again. _True love’s kiss? Better than nothing, I guess._

But she didn’t care how the curse would be broken, just that Adrien had a chance to live. Relief flooded Marinette, making her dizzy. She sat down on the floor, but her father swept her into his arms and held her aloft. 

“Papa,” she whimpered. “Papa.”

“It’s okay, Marinette,” Tom said, patting her back. “It’ll be okay.”

Gazing down at the wriggling bundle in the cradle, her sweet prince, Marinette wasn’t so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [@sing-in-me-oh-muse](https://sing-in-me-oh-muse.tumblr.com)!
> 
> \---
> 
> Are you interested in reading or writing fanfiction? Do you draw or edit pictures or even cosplay? Are you looking for a community of like-minded and supportive people? Then join the [Miraculous Fanworks](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Discord server! 
> 
> We are always welcoming new members, and would love to see you. We offer a variety of conversations, from writing support to encouragement for your art to cosplay tips. We even have monthly server-wide events and group writing projects! 
> 
> Come join today!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mylène comes up with an idea to protect the precious, cursed Prince Adrien, and after 18 years of fruitless searching, Mayura expresses her frustrations.

_But King Gabriel, still fearful of his son’s life, did then and there decree that every spinning wheel in the kingdom should on that very day be burnt. So it was done._

Mylène was supposed to be drinking tea. She was supposed to be celebrating the birth of France’s heir. She was not supposed to be stressed and anxious about a curse they had no hope of breaking.

Pacing near the table where her two fairy companions and a cabinet sat, Mylène ground her teeth. “Oh, silly fiddle faddle!”

Rose gestured to the teacups. “Now, come have a nice cup of tea, dear. I’m sure it’ll work out somehow.”

Alix scoffed. “Well, a bonfire won’t stop Mayura.”

“Of course not,” Mylène said, twisting her hands around her wand. If she wasn’t careful, she’d break the elm wand with a phoenix feather embedded in it. “But what will?”

Rose, ever the optimist, smiled a little and pointed to the sky. She rose from her seat. “Well, perhaps if we reason with her…?”

“Reason?” Mylène said, her brows shooting into her multicolored hairline.

Alix seemed to agree. “With Mayura?” 

“Well,” Rose said, plopping down on her chair again. “She can’t be all bad.”

“Oh, yes,” Mylène said, pursing her lips. “She can.”

Alix stood and stomped her foot. “I’d like to turn her into a fat, ole hoptoad!”

Rose tutted. “Now, dear, that isn’t a very nice thing to say.”

Mylène entertained the idea of Mayura hopping around, warts on her toady butt. Mylène allowed herself a small smile before shooting down the idea. “Besides, we can’t. You know our magic doesn’t work that way.”

Rose clasped her hands together next to her chin. “It can only do good, dear, to bring joy and happiness.”

“That would make me happy,” Alix said, and Mylène stifled a laugh. Alix was such a character. Their trio was well-balanced with Alix as the ever-consuming fire, Rose as the quenching water, and Mylène as the steady earth--despite their gowns not being color-coordinated in that way. Mylène favored pinks and reds, Alix for some ridiculous reason wore blue, and Rose enjoyed green.

But that didn’t solve the problem of what to do about Prince Adrien. He was such a lovely baby; Mylène didn’t want anything to happen to such a precious child. “But there must be some way…” 

She tapped her chin with her wand, pacing back and forth and back and forth. _What would Mayura not expect?_ she thought. _There has to be a way..._ Then an idea struck her. “Oh, there is!”

Alix choked on her tea. “There is?”

“What is it, Mylène?” Rose asked, blinking owlishly at her with those large, blue eyes.

“I’m going to… shh, shh, shh! Even walls have ears,” Mylène said, sneaking around the corners, her companions rising from the table and trailing behind. “Follow me!”

With a wave of her wand, Mylène minimized herself and flew into the cabinet resting on the table. The cabinet contained a variety of useful things: sewing notions, a silver saucer, a brush, fabric, and needles. All in all, it was a pretty place to be small, but Mylène didn’t care in the slightest about that. She’d had an idea to save Adrien.

“I’ll turn him into a flower!” Mylène said, holding her wand aloft.

“Oh, he’d make a lovely flower,” Rose said, her voice more of a coo than normal.

“Don’t you see?” Mylène said, bouncing in the air. “A flower can’t prick its finger!”

Alix’s eyes widened. “It hasn’t any.”

“That’s right,” Rose said, covering her cheeks with her hands.

Mylène allowed a satisfied smile to cross her lips. “He’ll be perfectly safe.”

Then Alix dashed her hopes to bits. “Until Mayura sends a frost.”

“Yes, a… oh, dear!” Mylène said with growing horror. _That would be terrible. Adrien can’t die in a frost!_

Rose sighed. “She always ruins your nicest flowers.”

“You’re right,” Mylène said, setting her jaw. “And she’ll be expecting us to do something like that.”

Alix threw her hands in the air. “But what won’t she expect? She knows everything.”

“Oh, but she doesn’t, dear.” Rose laid a hand on Alix’s shoulder. “Mayura doesn’t know anything about love, or kindness, or the joy of helping earnest.” Rose shook her head, taking on a faraway look. “You know, somehow I don’t think she’s really very happy.”

Something Rose had said pricked something in Mylène’s mind. _But would Mayura expect…?_ Mylène’s shoulders straightened. An epiphany struck her. “That’s it, of course! It’s the only thing she can’t understand and won’t expect.” 

Her wings buzzed behind her as she zipped around the cabinet. “Oh, oh, now, now… we have to plan it carefully. Let’s see, woodcutter’s cottage, yes, yes, the abandoned one, of course the king and queen will object, but when we explain it’s the only way…”

“Explain what?” Alix said, raising her brows.

Mylène clapped her hands around her wand, a broad grin stretching her lips. “About the three peasant women raising a foundling child deep in the forest.”

Rose smiled. “Oh, that’s very nice of them.”

Alix appeared more skeptical, as well she should, Mylène thought. “Who are they?”

Mylène made a circle with her wand and pointed at the saucer. “Turn around!”

As Alix and Rose turned around to look at their reflections in the silver surface, Mylène smirked. She waved her wand and changed Alix’s blue gown into a pink peasant’s outfit. Rose’s green-themed outfit morphed into a drab brown and orange dress, and Mylène patted herself on her back for the pleased look on Rose’s face. 

Rose squealed. “Why, it’s… us!”

Alix groaned. “You mean, we, us?”

Rose whirled to Mylène, her eyes shining. “Take care of the baby?”

Mylène shrugged. “Why not?”

“Oh!” Rose clapped her hands. “I’d like that!”

Alix glared at the saucer. She dragged her wand across the air in front of her, changing her pink dress to blue. “Well, yes, yes, but will we have to feed it?”

“And wash it and dress it and rock it to sleep,” Rose gushed, pressing her knuckles together under her chin. “Oh, I’d love it.”

“You really think we can?” Alix asked, biting her lip.

Mylène patted Alix on the shoulder. “If humans can do it, so can we.”

Mylène didn’t know what Alix was worried about. Surely the care of a human infant couldn’t be that difficult? And Adrien seemed to be a good baby, in so much as any innocent baby could be considered “good.”

“And we have our magic to help us,” Alix said, plucking at her peasant garb.

Rose nodded firmly. “That’s right.”

“Oh, no,” Mylène said, frowning. “No, no, no, no magic! I’ll take those wands right now.” 

She stole Rose’s wand, who gave it up with an alarmed raising of the brows. Alix’s wand was a bit harder to retrieve; the pink-haired fairy dodged out of Mylène’s attempt to grab it from her. 

Mylène used her wand to zap Rose’s wings away. “And better get rid of those wings, too.” 

“You mean, live like mortals? For twenty years?” Alix asked, turning away from Mylène in order to preserve her grip on her wand. Mylène removed Alix’s wings, prompting an outraged squawk from her. “Now, we don’t know how. We’ve never done anything without magic.”

Mylène smirked, feeling smug. She made a grab for Alix’s wand, but Alix dodged out of the way. “And that’s why Mayura will never suspect.”

“But who will wash and cook?” Alix protested, holding her wand above Mylène’s head. 

“Oh,” Mylène said, dragging Alix’s hand down. Alix, crafty girl, wriggled out of Mylène’s grip. “We’ll all pitch in.”

Rose bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’ll take care of the baby!”

“Let me have it, dear,” Mylène said, still hunting for Alix’s wand. Alix disappeared Mylène’s wings, but Mylène finally snatched the wand, much to Alix’s displeasure. “Come along now. We must tell their majesties at once.” 

She hurried out of the cabinet and changed herself to normal size, starting to run to the throne room.

“Mylène!” Alix and Rose both called, stopping her in her tracks.

“Oh!” Mylène didn’t even notice that she’d forgotten to enlarge her companions. She waved her wand, and sparkles covered her two fairy friends, changing them into their normal sizes.

Convincing King Gabriel and Queen Emilie was less difficult than Mylène had expected. They wanted the best for their son, and so the king and his queen watched with heavy hearts as their most precious possession, their only child, disappeared into the night.

***

_Many sad and lonely years passed by for King Gabriel and his people. But as the time for the prince’s eighteenth birthday drew near, the entire kingdom began to rejoice. For everyone knew that as long as Mayura’s domain, the Forbidden Mountains, thundered with her wrath and frustration, her evil prophecy had not yet been fulfilled._

Mayura snarled at her amoks, her search patrol of eight armored pigmen, who cowered at her rage. Thunder shook the castle walls, and lightning lit up the stones. 

“It’s incredible, eighteen years and not a trace of him!” Mayura fanned herself as she strode across the floor of her throne room, her jaw set and her teeth grinding. “He couldn’t have vanished into thin air!” 

She only had two more years to fulfill the promise of the curse, when Adrien would turn twenty. And she knew--she just knew--the three rabble-rousing fairies would try something to prevent Mayura from getting her way. They always did.

Her amoks cringed as she rounded on them and her raven bobbed its head as it clung to her shoulder. “Are you _sure_ you searched everywhere?”

The amok in charge tapped his polearm on the floor. “Yeah, yeah, everywhere. We all did.”

The second servant chimed in. “Yeah, yeah!”

Mayura sighed. Amoks were stupid at the best of times; while her skill had grown exponentially in creating them, she’d still only just figured out how to make them communicate. Each amok was infused with her own energy. It was a shame her own intelligence didn’t carry over to each of them.

Mayura was beginning to lose patience. If she didn’t rein in her anger, she would do something she’d regret. “But what about the town, the forests, the mountains?”

The amok in charge snorted, his snout wrinkling. “We searched mountains, forests, and houses,” he said, and Mayura whipped her fan back and forth so she wouldn’t smack him, “and let me see, in all the cradles.”

Mayura’s brows rose. “Cradles?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the servant said. “Every cradle.”

Mayura just about bit a hole in her lip. “Cradle?” She turned to her pet raven. “Did you hear that, my pet? All these years, they’ve been looking for a baby!”

Mayura gave in to a vicious laughter that bounced off the walls. The amoks joined in, nervously at first, but then growing in volume. 

She abruptly stopped laughing. “Fools!” The amok leader covered his mouth as the rest of the goons flinched back in terror. “Idiots! Imbeciles!” 

Mayura slapped the air with her fan, sending lighting bolts at the search patrol. The amoks fled in horror, squealing as they were struck. The nauseating smell of roasted pig flesh filled the singed air along with the odor of ozone from the lightning. 

Once they were gone, Mayura slumped miserably in her throne. “Oh, they’re hopeless. A disgrace to the forces of evil.”

It was times like this that made Mayura doubt her commitment to this quest. Prince Adrien had done nothing wrong to her; it had been that wretched King Gabriel and his wife who had slighted Mayura. 

Mayura stretched her hand out. Despite being centuries old, she was shaking more from spite than old age. 

It wasn’t as if Mayura hadn’t been slighted before. She’d loved Gabriel once. They’d been betrothed. He was the only human man she’d ever loved; the only human man she ever would love. She was willing to watch him grow old and die long before she did if she could only be a part of his life, which was as fragile as a candle flame and just as bright.

But then he’d chosen Emilie, a human woman, over Mayura. “I don’t want you to suffer my growing old,” he’d told her, as if it was entirely his decision. “I want to grow old _with_ someone.”

And wasn’t that the crux of it? That Mayura was an immortal, old spinster and Emilie was a fresh-and-vibrant, young woman? Not receiving an invitation to the presentation of their son had been the last straw. Gabriel had probably thought to spare Mayura’s feelings upon seeing the blond results of their union, but Mayura would have liked to have been acknowledged as a part of his life.

While waiting for the invitation, she’d fancied herself as Adrien’s godmother. She crafted small enchantments that would amuse a toddler, wanting a child of her own. Butterflies made of smoke. Tops that never stopped spinning. Flowers that bloomed at night and glowed. 

And she’d waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But it was not meant to be. The invitation never came, and Mayura had to figure out from the rumor mill that Gabriel’s son had been born.

She turned to her raven, Corbin, stroking his inky feathers with her long-nailed fingers. “My pet, you are my last hope. Circle far and wide. Search for a lad of eighteen with hair of sunshine gold and lips as red as the rose.”

She lifted her arm, sending Corbin fluttering up into the arched ceiling. “Go, and do not fail me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [@sing-in-me-oh-muse](https://sing-in-me-oh-muse.tumblr.com)!
> 
> \---
> 
> Are you interested in reading or writing fanfiction? Do you draw or edit pictures or even cosplay? Are you looking for a community of like-minded and supportive people? Then join the [Miraculous Fanworks](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Discord server! 
> 
> We are always welcoming new members, and would love to see you. We offer a variety of conversations, from writing support to encouragement for your art to cosplay tips. We even have monthly server-wide events and group writing projects! 
> 
> Come join today!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And so, for eighteen long years, the whereabouts of the prince remained a mystery, while deep in the forest, in a woodcutter’s cottage, the good fairies carried out their well-laid plan. Living like mortals, they had reared the child as their own and called him Chat Noir._
> 
> Meeting a stranger in the woods and dancing with her was not how Chat expected to spend his afternoon, but after hearing her laugh, he wouldn't have chosen any other way to do so.

_And so, for eighteen long years, the whereabouts of the prince remained a mystery, while deep in the forest, in a woodcutter’s cottage, the good fairies carried out their well-laid plan. Living like mortals, they had reared the child as their own and called him Chat Noir._

Princess Marinette clung low to Tikki, her mare, as the horse darted through the forest. Sick of being cooped up in the castle while her father rubbed elbows with King Gabriel, Marinette had gone for a ride to soothe her ruffled feathers.

She was sure she wouldn’t run into any trouble this deep in the woods, but just in case, she’d brought her sword and donned her mask. Both Marinette’s ponytail and her spotted cape in the form of a ladybug’s wings streamed behind her. She sweated in her light tunic, but paid no mind to it as the wind rushed in her face. Tikki surged between her muscular thighs, dodging trees until they became too thick to really gallop through. 

“Whoa, girl,” Marinette said, gently pulling back on the reins to slow the powerful animal. Tikki huffed and dropped down to a trot. She was only slightly winded, and Marinette was proud of her warhorse. She’d insisted on riding her all the way over to France, which she hadn’t visited since she was a child.

Now that Tikki’s pace was slow, Marinette could take in the sights. Summer sunlight dappled through the trees, shining on the emerald-green grass and soft, babbling brooks. Tikki picked her way through the pathway between the trees, and Marinette released the reins to throw her arms up and stretch.

Marinette breathed in the fresh, clean air of the woods. Everything smelled better out here; Paris smelled of smoke, bread, and urine but the woods smelled of soil, water, and green, growing things. The piece of wood she’d found that she planned to whittle later burned a hole in her belt pouch.

Then Marinette heard a curious sound. _Is someone… singing?_ The voice was a man’s tenor, so sweet and lovely that Marinette had to pause to listen. She strained her ears to listen to the gorgeous song, which sounded more like nonsense than anything. 

“Hear that, Tikki?” Marinette said, stroking her mare’s neck. “Beautiful! What is it? Come on, let’s find out.” 

Marinette pulled on the reins to turn her horse around, but Tikki struggled against the command. “Oh, come on!” Marientte smiled down at her horse, leaning forward. “For an extra bucket of oats and a few carrots?”

Tikki nodded and Marinette dug her heels into Tikki’s sides. “Hop, girl!”

Tikki flowed across the grass like water down a hill as Marinette sat astride her. Then Tikki jumped over a log, and branches from a nearby tree seized Marinette. “Whoa!” 

She felt herself falling before she saw the water of the brook rush up at her. Her hat fell off, and her cape draped around her body, soaking wet. Tikki sheepishly returned to her. Marinette scoffed and sprinkled some water at her. “No carrots.”

***

Chat loved his animal friends. They were his only friends except for his aunts, and the animals never judged him.

Except for the chipmunks. Those little rascals were terribly judgmental. 

“I wonder, I wonder,” Chat sang as he strolled barefoot in the woods he called his own, “I wonder why each little bird has a someone…”

Chat held onto a thin, spindly tree, swinging around it to chase his brightly-colored feathered friends. “... To sing to, sweet things to…” 

As he plucked berries to place them into a basket, he popped one into his mouth. The juice burst onto his tongue, and he nearly moaned aloud in delight. He swallowed the berry and continued singing to his animal friends, who’d follow him all during his stroll. “... A gay, little laugh melody.”

He approached a clearing in the woods, which revealed a beautiful castle afar off. “I wonder, I wonder, if my heart keeps singing, will my song go winging,” he sang, leaning his arms and his chin on the branch of a tree, “to someone who will find me and bring a love song back to me!”

Sighing happily, Chat adjusted his mask and turned to the birds. “Oh, dear, why do they still treat me like a child?”

The owl, Chat’s ever-present companion, hooted at him. “Who?”

“Why, Mylène and Rose and Alix,” Chat said, picking his way across the grass. The soft, cool blades rustled under his feet. “They never want me to meet anyone.”

The squirrel wound its way under Chat’s feet, and he walked delicately around it without tripping, naturally graceful. “But you know something? I’ve fooled ‘em,” Chat said, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “I have met someone!”

“Who?” the owl hooted, fluttering in front of Chat. “Who? Who?”

“Oh, a princess.” Chat hummed noncommittally as his animal friends hollered and squawked around him. He chuckled at their enthusiasm. “Well, she’s tall and strong and… and so romantic.”

The rabbits hopped in place, the owl flapped its wings, and the squirrel bounced. They were all asking questions. “Oh, we walked together and talked together, and just before we say goodbye,” Chat murmured, setting his berry basket down to hug himself, “she takes me in her arms and then…”

The animals leaned forward, but Chat frowned. “I wake up.”

The animals cooed at him, lowering their heads and sinking down to the ground. Chat felt awful for them, so he tried to cheer them up. “Yes, it’s only in my dreams.” He held up a clawed finger. “But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true. And I’ve seen her so many times!”

Then Chat noticed a curious thing. Some of his animal friends were missing. The owl, the rabbits, and a couple of the birds. He peered around trees for them and spotted the rabbits approaching in a pair of boots. The owl fluttered over, wearing a feathered cap and a red and black-spotted cape spread out by the other birds.

“Oh, why, it’s my dream princess!” Chat laughed, bowing to his animal friends. “Your highness! No, I’m not really supposed to speak to strangers. But we’ve met before!” 

He took the cape by the “waist” and the “hand” and twirled around the woods with it and the owl. Chat sang, his voice as pure and clear as the brook. “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.”

Alix and Rose had taught Chat to dance one night in the winter when they were all bored, and Chat put his skills to the test now. It was just for fun; surely no one was watching, though Chat did wonder briefly where the boots and cape had come from.

“And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem,” Chat sang softly, pulling up close to his “princess,” as if to share an intimate moment between them. “But if I know you, I know what you’ll do: you’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

Chat closed his eyes and spun away from his animal friends, embracing his own shoulders and swaying on his feet. “But if I know you, I know what you’ll do: you’ll love me at once--”

A woman joined Chat’s singing. “The way you did once--”

Chat’s eyes shot open, his heart slamming into his throat. He choked around it, his hands turning slick with sweat.

The woman finished the song. “Upon a dream.”

Chat whirled around to see a stranger in a red and black-spotted mask that matched the cape. Her tunic was red and her breeches-- _breeches? She’s wearing pants?_ \--were made of supple, black leather. She had comfortable-looking boots and spotted gloves, along with a sword strapped to her side. 

“Oh!” Chat said, his eyes flicking to the deeper part of the woods. 

“I’m awfully sorry,” the stranger said, raising a hand. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Chat hands trembled. He’d never seen someone his own age and height--his aunts were all shorter than he was and significantly older. “It’s not that. It’s just that you’re a… a…”

“A stranger?” The woman looked more amused than she had any right to be, Chat thought petulantly. 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, rubbing the back of his head with a gloved hand. 

“But don’t you remember?” she said, flashing a grin. Her teeth were white and quite pretty, Chat thought. _She sure has a beautiful smile._ “We’ve met before!”

“We…” Chat started, his eyes wide. He couldn’t ever remember meeting a stranger. Never. He had begun to think that he and his aunts were the only people who existed. He’d heard stories of other people, but they were only stories. But this woman completely upended his theories about being alone. “We have?”

Being in the presence of this stranger was taboo. It was forbidden.

It was exhilarating.

Peering at the woman from beneath his lashes, Chat felt his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Of course!” she said, placing one hand on her hip and gesturing with the other. Her brash confidence was inspiring. “You said so yourself: once upon a dream!” 

Her voice rang out, not as clear as Chat’s but clear enough, and on key. “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.” 

She offered her gloved hand, and Chat hesitated, but only for a moment. Placing his hand in hers, he was stunned as she pulled him into a dance where she led. He was hypersensitive to her touch, his every nerve on fire. “I know you,” they sang together, Chat’s voice growing more and more solid, “the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam…”

They waltzed by a lake, Chat finding himself completely swept away by this dangerous stranger. Her footwork was flawless--as was his--and though they’d never danced together before, they could predict each other’s steps. The couple moved as one, completely in sync, as if they’d fought a thousand battles together and knew the lines of each other’s bodies. 

The woman spun Chat, and he whooped, gladly allowing himself to enjoy the free-falling feeling of being twirled about. Dancing with a partner was so much better than dancing with animals; Chat knew he’d be spoiled from now on.

Chat could see the way her eyes sparkled with amusement, crinkling slightly. He could see the way her pretty, pink lips turned up at the corners. He could see the way she was looking at him--and heat rose in his cheeks.

They spun and spun and spun, dancing around the forest with the stranger in the lead. As the waltz came to a close, they were both panting with effort and, on Chat’s part, no small amount of excitement. Chat’s fingers lingered on hers, as did hers on his waist. 

Her lips parted, and Chat wanted nothing more than to hear what she had to say. “Who are you?” she said, cocking her head. “What’s your name?”

“Hmm?” Chat murmured, too enraptured by the cadence of her voice. “Oh, my name. Why, it’s, it’s…” Chat remembered the warning of his aunts: never ever speak to strangers. He stepped back from this dangerous lady, covering his mouth. 

“Oh, no, no,” he spoke through his fingers. “I can’t, I… Goodbye!”

He began to run off, but stumbled when he heard her call after him. “But when will I see you again?”

Chat knew he should run. He was terrified his aunts might find out and that they’d be angry with him for circumventing their warning. But he didn’t _want_ to run. 

He didn’t want to leave behind this opportunity to get to know someone else, someone he already felt a deep connection to. This woman had a magnetic pull on him; she’d reached into his heart with her brash confidence and pulled.

But he must run. He must. He hugged himself, staying rooted to the spot. He had to answer her question, though: when would they see each other again? “Oh, never, never!” 

“Never?”

Chat turned back to her, biting his lip. “Well, maybe someday.”

“Someday sounds good to me,” the woman said, chuckling. “If that’s okay with you.” She reached out and then pulled her hand back. “But you seem nervous. I don’t want to force a friendship on you.”

“Oh, no!” Chat said, his eyes going wide. The woman’s own eyes glinted with mirth. “I want to be your friend! I mean… I would like that very much!” 

She offered her hand then, and Chat took it, intending to bow over it and possibly kiss her knuckles, like he’d been taught. Instead, she shook his hand, taking him aback. 

_What a strange woman,_ he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. “What’s your name?” he asked. “I can’t give you my full name yet.”

“Do you really think that’s fair?” She laughed, and Chat wanted nothing more than to make her laugh always. “Well, if you can’t give me your name, I’ll give you only one of mine: Ladybug.”

“Chat.” That smile grew wider and wider, threatening to run away with his heart. He hadn’t let go of her hand, and from the lighthearted grin she was giving him, she didn’t seem to mind. Feeling squirmy, Chat pulled his hand back quickly. _Am I touching her wrong?_ He’d never touched anyone but his aunts before, so he was uncertain as to whether he’d been doing it correctly.

“Well, Chat,” she said, and Chat luxuriated in the way her tongue rolled over his name, “I have some snacks with Tikki, my mare. Would you like some?”

“Oh, would I!” Chat bounced on the balls of his feet. He leaned forward into Ladybug’s space. “I love snacks.” 

Ladybug laughed again, her voice as clear as a bell, and Chat knew she was laughing with him rather than at him. It endeared her to him even further. “Take it easy,” she teased, pushing him back by his nose. “The food isn’t going to bolt.”

She turned and walked to her horse, who had been tied up and hidden in a copse of trees. Chat followed, and Ladybug rubbed the animal on the neck, whispering nonsense words to her. Chat’s new friend retrieved some hard cheese, some grapes, and some delicious-smelling bread with a platter from the saddlebags. “Baked fresh this morning by my papa.”

“What’s it like having a father?” Chat wondered aloud, causing Ladybug to blink at him. “Sorry, all I have are my aunts.”

“Depends on the kind of father you get, I suppose. I was lucky; my papa’s great.”

She sat down under the shade of a tree and offered him some grapes. He popped the juicy, purple fruit into his mouth and chewed, closing his eyes. “Mmph, that’s good.”

“Do you not often get fruit?” Ladybug asked, pulling a knife out of her boot to start slicing the bread and cheese. She carefully set her sword on the ground next to them. “I saw you were picking berries before.”

“I don’t often get anything I don’t pick myself, no,” Chat said, shrugging. He thanked her for the food and tore into the bread, moaning in delight when the yeasty deliciousness melted on his tongue. 

The crust of the bread was perfect, with just the right amount of crispiness. The mouthfeel of the inside was spongy and soft, and the taste! Oh, the taste was divine, sweet and salty all at once. It had a flavor he could both smell on the air before he bit into it and see as a slight gloss on the inside and a deep, golden brown color on the outside.

“This is sooo gooood.” Chat stuffed his entire piece into his mouth, and Ladybug laughed again. He beamed at her, feeling slightly sheepish but content.

Ladybug cut him another slice of bread, which he scarfed down as well. “Do you do all the baking at home as well?”

Chat nodded. “I do. I can follow a recipe, but none of my baking creations have heart, you know? My aunts are useless in the kitchen, especially…. Well, I can’t give you their names either.” 

Ladybug shrugged, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. “I don’t mind. I’m just glad to get to know you, Chat.”

“Likewise, Ladybug.” Chat felt warm, and not from the summer heat. He felt warm from the inside out. 

He was hyper aware of her presence beside him, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the flicker of her eyelashes as she blinked. She was fascinating to him; he wanted to be a part of everything she did.

_Why am I feeling this way?_ Chat wondered, hesitantly accepting another piece of bread from Ladybug. _I’ve only just met this woman. She’s… She could be anyone. She could even be a bandit. Do normal people carry knives in their boots?_

Chat lowered his hands to his lap, watching her own, delicate ones. _The food is good, though. I don’t think she’d come all this way just to poison me._ He blinked down at the bread on his thigh. _What if it’s poisoned?_

“Chat?” Ladybug asked, cocking her head at him. “Are you all right?”

Chat blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re not trying to poison me, are you, Ladybug?”

Ladybug sputtered. “What? No, of course not.” She let loose a soft laugh. “I’m eating the food, too.”

Chat eyed her suspiciously. “What if it’s a poison you’re immune to?”

“Give me one good reason why I’d come all this way to poison a random boy in the woods.”

_She’s got me there._ Freed from his fears about the food being something that could kill him, Chat dove into eating the bread and cheese and fruit with gusto. 

Between the two of them, they polished off the snacks quickly, with Chat eating the bulk of it. He didn’t realize how hungry he’d been and was sorely disappointed when there wasn’t any more food.

Chat rubbed the back of his head. “Maybe I can bring the snack next time.”

“Bring enough to feed an army,” Ladybug teased, her eyes glittering. “You’re a growing boy who needs his strength.”

“Hey!” Chat puffed his chest out. “I’m eighteen tomorrow!” 

“Happy birthday!” Ladybug said, clapping her hands together once. “I should make you a cake!”

“I’ve never had a cake,” Chat said, already feeling his mouth water.

Ladybug furrowed her brow at him. “Never? You’ve missed out on a lot. What else have you missed out on?”

Heat crept up from Chat’s chest to his neck and settled in his cheeks. “Well, um, you’re my first friend. I’ve never seen anyone outside of my aunts.”

Ladybug’s jaw dropped. “No one? No one at all?”

Chat rubbed his cheeks. “No one. Which is why it’s so weird that I’m so comfortable around you.”

Ladybug smirked playfully. “Aside from the worries about poisoning.”

“That was a one time thing!”

Ladybug giggled at his surliness. “Well, I’m in France for a while, staying at the Tuileries Palace in Paris. I’ll come back tomorrow and bring you a cake.”

Chat stared at her, eyes wide. “You will? Really, you will? You weren’t joking?”

“I keep my promises,” Ladybug said, taking his hand to shake it again. Once again, Chat was hypersensitive to her touch, worried if he was holding her hand wrong. 

He wanted to show her his gratitude. He wanted to show her he cared about her as a friend. So he kissed her gloved palm, feeling a rush of heat in his cheeks. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

She flushed just as deeply as he was sure he was, her cheeks turning a beautiful, dusky rose color. “Oh, um, sure.” She extricated her hand from his loose grip, collected the empty platter, and stood. “Tomorrow, then?”

Chat liked the way she’d said the word, as if she’d intended to keep the promise. He beamed. “Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [@sing-in-me-oh-muse](https://sing-in-me-oh-muse.tumblr.com)!
> 
> \---
> 
> Are you interested in reading or writing fanfiction? Do you draw or edit pictures or even cosplay? Are you looking for a community of like-minded and supportive people? Then join the [Miraculous Fanworks](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Discord server! 
> 
> We are always welcoming new members, and would love to see you. We offer a variety of conversations, from writing support to encouragement for your art to cosplay tips. We even have monthly server-wide events and group writing projects! 
> 
> Come join today!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a hot summer's day, Chat and Ladybug share a birthday cake and rediscover what it means to have fun with a friend.

On Chat’s birthday, Marinette spent all morning baking two small gingerbread cakes out of honey, breadcrumbs, ginger, cloves, and pepper. 

She gently heated the honey in a pan and brought it to a boil, scraping off the scum that appeared on the top. Then she stirred the breadcrumbs into the hot honey and let it cool, blending the spices in the mixture. Marinette transferred the batter to a small baking sheet and let it cool so she could cut it into two square cakes.

It was a simple enough recipe, but one she’d enjoyed eating in birthdays past because of how spicy it was. She paired the cakes with coffee that she’d poured into two spelled cups with lids, so that the drinks would remain hot.

And all the while, she thought and thought and thought about Chat. He was a strange boy in the woods, eager for friendship and almost a bit too excitable, more like a puppy than a cat. And while she couldn’t fault him for dressing like he did--she dressed like a ladybug, after all--she wondered why he felt the ears and claws and tail were necessary. 

In short, Marinette was charmed by her new friend. 

She’d never tell him she thought the ears were cute.

Just as cute as he was.

Marinette had never found boys to be interesting before this one. She’d found boys to be people to beat in archery contests and in the sword-practice ring. There was her old crush, Nino, but he was more like a brother to her, a childhood friend, rather than a love interest.

As Marinette bid her goodbyes to her mother and father, she marveled at the fact that Chat had only seen his aunts for eighteen years. Well, eighteen years, minus one day. She was the first person he’d ever seen outside of family, and she didn’t know what to feel about that.

“Hyah!” Marinette told Tikki, clinging to her with powerful thighs. “Giddyup!”

Marinette wanted to see her friend. She wanted to learn more about him; wanted to find out why, exactly, he thought she was poisoning him; wanted to find out why he’d been so alone and barefoot in the woods. He was fascinating to her--and she wanted a word with his aunts.

As Tikki darted through the underbrush, Marinette smiled. She’d get to know Chat. They might end up good friends, and since Marinette was going to board at King Gabriel’s palace in Paris for the next two years, she may as well make a friend during that time.

Unfortunately, she almost ran her new friend over with her horse. “Whoa!” Marinette pulled back on the reins, jerking Tikki to a stuttering stop. 

Chat had darted out of the way with an inhuman grace; Marinette wondered absurdly if he’d had to walk with books on his head in deportment lessons like she’d had to. 

“Chat!” Marinette said, leaping off her horse, reins in hand. Marinette’s heart slammed in the back of her mouth as she panted. “Are you okay? You scared me!”

“I scared you?” Chat said, resting a clawed hand on his heaving chest. His other hand gripped a picnic basket covered with a white cloth. “You scared me, Ladybug!”

That’s right, she was Ladybug to him. She reached out and drew back when he flinched. He seemed hypersensitive to every touch, so she realized she couldn’t be as bold with him as she’d been before. He was like a skittish cat, and she knew she’d have to approach him carefully.

She led Tikki over to a brook and allowed her to drink. Chat followed at a distance. “Well, now that we’ve both scared nine lives off of ourselves,” Ladybug said, “how are you?”

“Aside from being momentarily terrified, I’m fine.” Chat gave her a soft, wry smile. “You do know how to make an entrance.”

Ladybug didn’t know what to say to that. She adjusted her mask and reached into her saddlebags. “Cake, as promised.” She held out his gingerbread cake, which was wrapped in cloth. “Happy birthday, Chat.”

“Bug,” he whispered, his effervescent, green eyes shining. “You didn’t have to make me a cake, but I’m glad you did.” Chat set his basket down on a rock and unwrapped the cloth as if the cake was the most precious present he’d ever received. “What’s it made of?”

“Honey, breadcrumbs, and spices.” Ladybug reached into her saddlebags for her own little cake. The time was nearing noon, and she was famished.

“So what you’re telling me is,” Chat started, but Ladybug couldn’t put a finger on his tone, “that this bread was a _pain_ to make?”

Ladybug bit back a laugh. “That’s terrible and you should feel terrible.”

Chat sniffed. “I’m not a piece of paper, Bug.”

“Not tearable!” Ladybug gently slugged him in the shoulder. “Terrible, T, E, R, R, I, B, L, E.”

“Is this a spelling contest?” Chat teased, his smile bright and infectious. “Because I’ll have you know I’ve never lost a game.”

“Prepare to lose,” Ladybug informed him primly. “After lunch, we’ll play Knucklebones. And I guarantee you’ll lose at that.”

“I’ve never played--wait, you brought lunch?” Chat grinned broadly. “So did I!”

“Maybe we’ll have enough food to keep up with your voracious appetite.” Ladybug laughed. “Speaking of food, let me feed Tikki and retrieve the sheep’s bones, and then we can eat lunch and our cakes.”

Ladybug tied Tikki’s reins to a tree and gave her an oats bag, which she happily munched on. Then Ladybug brought out the mylates of pork--a pork pie the chef had made just yesterday.

Chat had made a lunch of baked potatoes and fresh rainbow trout, which he’d fished up and roasted over a fire just before being almost run over by Ladybug’s horse. The coals of his fire were nearby and still hot, but the summer afternoon was warm enough for a roaring fire to be stifling, so they let the coals be.

Marinette picked bones out of her trout and chewed the meat gladly. Chat had used no butter for the potatoes, but he had salted and peppered them. The skins of the potatoes were crispy and delicious, and the insides were hot and fluffy, melting on Ladybug’s tongue in a burst of flavor. 

After they’d polished off the fish, potatoes, and pork pie, it was time for the cakes and coffee. Much to Ladybug’s amusement, Chat had never tried coffee before, and the face he made at the bitterness set her to laughing. 

“It’s good!” she insisted, but ended up drinking both cups.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see a hypercaffeinated Chat anyway.

And then he took a bite of her cake. 

Chat sat cross-legged in the grass, a look of child-like wonder on his face. Ladybug was amazed at how peaceful he looked, how present and in the moment. He closed his eyes slightly, tilting his chin up, with the smallest of smiles on his lips as he chewed. 

“‘S good,” he mumbled around another bite and then shoved the entire cake in his mouth as if he’d never get a chance to eat again.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Ladybug placed her own cake in her lap and held up her hands, chuckling. “It’s not going to run away from you, Chat.”

Chat swallowed. She wasn’t sure he’d even chewed. “I know, but it’s so good. It’s delicious, thank you. Best birthday ever.”

He had some crumbs and sticky honey on the corner of his lip. Ladybug reached out with a gloved hand, and gently wiped the crumbs away with her thumb. Chat tilted his face into her hand, causing her to drag her fingers across his lips. 

She drew her hand back, rosy heat building in her cheeks. The day was suddenly too warm to be weaning a cape shaped like ladybug wings; Ladybug shed it. Chat, too, was flushing, and Ladybug wondered how he could sit there comfortably in a suit made entirely of black leather.

A suit that left nothing to the imagination on an eighteen-year-old boy used to hunting and fishing for his dinner and talking long runs, barefoot, in the woods.

 _What a wild child he is,_ Ladybug thought, considering the unruly way his hair brushed over his forehead. She wanted to smooth his bangs. _Not a child. A man._

Ladybug was instantly aware of his knee sitting inches from hers, and about the shapely calf that knee was attached to. She tore her eyes away from him and focused on her cake.

To save herself from further damning thoughts, Ladybug broke her cake in half and offered it to him. Chat pointed at his chest--a nice chest, Ladybug’s traitorous mind reminded her--and smiled with white teeth. 

“For me?” Chat said, taking the cake with all the reverence he’d give to sacrament. Their fingers brushed, and Ladybug drew her hands back, biting down hard on her lower lip. “Thank you.”

“Is it hot out here, or is that just me?” Ladybug stammered, fanning herself with a hand. The motion did nothing to help her flustered state.

 _Why am I so affected by him?_ she wondered, finally indulging in her cake. The earthy ginger and sweet honey coated her tongue, and the pepper was just spicy enough for the cake to have a kick to it. _It’s not like he’s magically beautiful or anything!_

Ladybug peered at him. _Is he?_

Chat shrugged, popping the entire half of her cake into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “It is summer.”

Ladybug wondered what he was referring to and then abruptly remembered she’d asked him a question. “Oh, yes, summer. It’s so warm outside it makes me want to take a dip in the lake.”

Chat blinked at her. “We… could, if you wanted to.”

Ladybug gulped. “Oh, um… I mean, we could. It’s not like we’d be skinny dipping or anything.”

Chat choked. He pounded on his chest with a clawed fist, coughing. “Did you still want to play Knucklebones?”

That she could have a similar effect on him that he was having on her cheered Ladybug up immensely. She offered him a sly grin. “You sure you wouldn’t rather go swimming?”

Chat’s eyes flicked over her. He turned to face her fully. “I’m up for whatever my Lady wants to do.”

Ladybug raised a brow. “Your Lady?” 

“You are a Lady, aren’t you?” Chat pointed at her bow. “No peasant carries tools that nice.”

“Ah, yes,” Ladybug said, shifting her sword at hers side. “But am I _your_ Lady?”

Chat sat up straight, looking stunned. He glanced away, into the trees. “We’re moving a little fast, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Ladybug agreed. “Is that okay?”

Chat turned his gaze to her, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know.”

“Just so you know,” Ladybug said, shifting away from his knees and standing to retrieve the sheep’s knuckles, “I don’t know either.”

She sat cross-legged again and cleared her throat. “But if you don’t know and I don’t know, it’s probably better to just be friends for now.”

“Do friends move fast?”

Ladybug shook her head, laying out the five bones. “Not usually? But I’ve never… Well, I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

Chat offered his hand to her hesitantly. “Friends?”

Ladybug shook it. “Friends.”

“So, how do we play this game?”

“Knucklebones isn’t too complicated,” Ladybug said, and showed him how to choose his playing piece--the taw--by jockeying. She threw all five bones in the air and tried to catch as many as she could on the back of her hand. She caught three. “It’s easier if you spread your fingers a bit.”

Chat tried, and remarkably caught two. She didn’t think he’d be able to catch any, being a novice at the game, which made her wonder if he was magically gifted with grace, too. 

The way he moved was inhuman and ethereal; he never missed a step. He’d even darted out of the way of her horse with reflexes that seemed unnatural. Even though his speech included the usual human stammers, his body flowed like supple leather sliding over skin. 

Ladybug was tempted to challenge him to race. Or a swim. She really would love to see him in the water.

As he threw his taw into the air and swept the other knucklebones into his waiting hands, beating her for the third time in a row over an afternoon of games, Ladybug’s competitive edge rose in her chest. 

“A race, then,” she said abruptly, causing a grin to bloom on his too-pretty face. “You versus me. To the lake and back, and no cheating.”

Chat gave her a cat-like smile, his eyes slightly closed. “I know the woods better than you.”

“You do.” Ladybug stood and returned the knucklebones to her saddlebags. She turned to him with a smile and cocked her hip, curling her fingers around it. Watching him rise to his feet in the graceful way he did everything set her heart to pounding. “But I’m curious to see how fast you run. And I’m very, very fast when I want to be.”

Chat approached her, leaning into her space. She felt his breath on her temple as he leaned forward to whisper into her ear, “Deal.”

Up close, he was even taller than she'd expected him to be. But Ladybug refused to be distracted: she had a race to win. 

She placed her sword and her cape on Tikki’s saddle and removed the oat bag. Once her horse was settled, Ladybug stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. She was used to sitting on the ground, but not for an entire afternoon. She needed to _move_.

Chat took up a position near Tikki in the middle of the clearing, his legs slightly bent at the knee. “Ready?”

“You’d better believe it.” Ladybug mimicked his position, crouching a little, with one foot pushed forward and her other slightly behind. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Ladybug was off like a shot, pumping her powerful arms and legs as she bolted across the clearing. Chat met her step for step, his long stride eating up the distance between them. They burst together into the forest, dodging trees and scattering birds and small animals in their wake. 

Chat leapt over a bush; with his legs spread and him doing the splits in the air, he looked like a ballet dancer performing a petits jetés. He landed on one foot and kept running, nearly overtaking Ladybug as she had to move around the bush. 

A burst of speed from him had her staring at his muscled back. Chat glanced back at her over his shoulder, and the grin he flashed made her blood boil. Ladybug flew over the grass, rocks, and dirt, knowing her frantic footfalls were the loudest noise the forest had heard in a long while. She felt each step jar her bones, but soon caught up to Chat as he turned his shoulders to slip between two trees. 

He bounded to the lake and stopped at a ledge, nearly falling into the water. Ladybug skittered to a stop, but accidentally checked him with her hip, unable to slow her momentum in time. With a yelp, he fell right into the water, sinking down like a stone. 

“Chat!” Ladybug screamed, waiting with bated breath until he surfaced, laughing. He splashed her with water, causing her to shriek as the cold liquid covered her from head to toe. “Ohhh, you’re going to get it!” 

Ladybug leapt into the lake, diving underneath the surface of the water and swimming down to his feet. She grasped his bare ankles and tugged viciously, dunking him under. She heard his squawk of outrage as he was dunked and smiled to herself.

Chat was as lithe under the water as he was on the land; the only ridiculous thing about him was the way his cheeks were puffed out. He swam to her and tickled her waist. She laughed, bubbles escaping her lips, and had to surface for air. Chat popped his head above the lake as she did, gasping for breath.

They looked at each other for a moment, both wearing stupidly-sheepish grins.

“Think fast!” Ladybug said, splashing Chat in the face. He sputtered and rubbed his eyes with a clawed hand, and then started splashing her back, his long, lean arms causing waves in the water to strike her in the face.

This could not stand. Ladybug buffeted him with lake water, her legs kicking below the surface. Just when she couldn’t deal with being splashed anymore, as she was giggling too much to properly splash back, she dove underneath again. 

Chat hadn’t noticed her dive and was still splashing thin air, causing ripples on the lake. She grabbed his foot and started tickling with the other hand, and he kicked, trying to get away from her as he laughed long and hard. She let him go and surfaced, resting the back of her hand on her forehead. 

“Admit it,” Chat said, smiling broadly, “you just wanted me in the lake.”

Ladybug winked at him. “The best kept secrets are the ones you never tell.”

Chat squinted at her. “Well, that’s not suspicious.”

Ladybug shrugged, spreading her hands as best she could while treading water. “The day was hot. And while this was initially an accident, you have to admit we’ve been having fun in the lake.”

“True.” Chat smirked at her, a playful challenge. “Race you to the end of the lake and back?”

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [@sing-in-me-oh-muse](https://sing-in-me-oh-muse.tumblr.com)!
> 
> \---
> 
> Are you interested in reading or writing fanfiction? Do you draw or edit pictures or even cosplay? Are you looking for a community of like-minded and supportive people? Then join the [Miraculous Fanworks](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Discord server! 
> 
> We are always welcoming new members, and would love to see you. We offer a variety of conversations, from writing support to encouragement for your art to cosplay tips. We even have monthly server-wide events and group writing projects! 
> 
> Come join today!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug is attacked and injured by an unlikely source.

During the fall after Chat had met Ladybug, the rains came. The leaves were gilded and scarlet, falling in torrents to the forest floor as the rain weighed them down. 

As Chat went out to meet Ladybug, hail pelted his hood and he regretted going barefoot. Mud squelched under his feet and between his toes, and while normally he didn’t mind the feeling, he worried that Ladybug might look down on him for being filthy and enjoying it. 

Chat enjoyed everything when it came to meeting Ladybug. From the way she lit up when she challenged him to a game to her delicious cooking to the way her laughter utterly destroyed his ability to remain poised. He’d join in, his head thrown back and his mouth open wide, gleefully chortling as long as she’d let him.

The first time she came, she didn’t seem real to him. Even on the second meeting, Chat had thought she was some sort of fever dream, some fairy that had blessed him with her presence and would disappear right away. 

Then she’d touched his lips, and Chat realized that Ladybug was indeed a human girl who had decided to become his friend.

He was grateful. Beyond grateful; Chat couldn’t even find the words to express how grateful he was for their friendship. He’d never had a friend before, and every time they played Knucklebones or ran a race across the forest or went for a swim, Chat treasured that time they’d spend together.

He approached their usual clearing, rain dripping off his chin. Despite his best efforts, his face was fairly soaked and very cold. Chat shivered in the chilly fall air, rubbing his arms. 

As Chat rounded a large tree, he saw Ladybug standing with her back to him, soothing her horse. He called, “Ladybug! Hello!” but his voice was drowned out in the rain. Apparently, however, she had heard him, as she turned to face him with a broad smile and a little wave of a gloved hand.

“Some weather we’re having!” Ladybug’s teeth glinted as she shouted over the sound of the downpour. “A real cloudburst!” 

Chat giggled. He’d never heard the word cloudburst before, and he liked it. He liked every word Ladybug said. “Yeah! We should find shelter!” 

Ladybug cocked her head. “Do you know of a place?”

Chat considered that. He searched his memory of the woods, and realized he did know the perfect place: a cave a little ways from the lake, tucked into an outcropping of rock that he’d have to squeeze his way into. 

Chat flashed her a thumbs up and cupped his hands around his mouth so she could better hear him. “Follow me.”

Chat heard Tikki’s pitiful whinny as Ladybug led her after him. _Horses don’t like rain almost as much as I don’t,_ he marveled, picking his way across the matted grass and stomping through the mud.

Thankfully, thick trees surrounded the little cave, offering shelter to Tikki as well as Chat and Ladybug. Not all the leaves had fallen from the branches yet, so the canopy provided protection from the rain. 

Ladybug tied up her horse and dug a cloth-wrapped club and some flint and stone out of her saddlebags. After striking the cloth against a tree, a blue flame burst into existence on the end of it. Chat’s eyes grew wide. He whistled and tipped his head towards the rocks. Ladybug trailed behind Chat, sheltering the spelled fire, as he approached the cave.

The opening was tinier than he remembered. Chat had to turn sideways and shimmy his way into the dark cave, but the small entrance made for a warm place. The cave was just tall enough for him to brush his head against the rocky ceiling. He ducked anyway.

Ladybug squeezed into the cave behind him with a grunt, her sword clattering against the side in its sheath. She held up the torch and lit the cave, showing a tunnel in the back of it. 

Being wet, Chat shivered in the cold, and Ladybug set about gathering sticks and pine needles for a fire. She handed him the torch, which was cool to the touch, and flicked the flint against the stone to start the blaze. The kindling caught, and soon Ladybug began blowing on the small embers, coaxing heat out of the fire.

Chat pushed his hood back and sat cross-legged by the comfortable fire, holding his gloved hand out to warm it while the other hand grasped the torch. The rain pattered outside the cave, soothing him, and the crackling of the fire bounced off the rock walls. The scent was delicious; sulphur and pine-scented smoke, which thankfully escaped out the entrance to the cave so he and Ladybug didn’t suffocate.

“You can probably set that down now,” Ladybug told him, shedding her cape that looked like a pair of insect wings. She spread it out on the cave floor near the fire to dry. Chat, having set the magical torch down on a rock where it burned merrily, followed suit and took off his cape, laying it out. 

Chat shook his head rapidly, causing water droplets to fly off in every direction, and Ladybug laughed. She held her hand up to keep herself from getting even more wet from his hair and smiled at him.

Chat placed his hands on the cave floor behind him and leaned back on his elbows. “Not how I expected to spend today, but it’s not bad.”

“I brought us a new game,” Ladybug said, raking a hand through her hair to clear it of rainwater. “I’ll have to go get the board and pieces from Tikki’s bags, but I think you’ll like it.”

Chat brightened, grinning at her in the semi-darkness. “I’m sure I’ll love it. What game did you bring?”

“It’s called chess,” Ladybug said but then whipped her head to the side. “Did you hear that?”

Chat’s feline ears flicked sideways. “Hear what?”

As Chat concentrated, he could barely hear the sound of heavy breathing over the rain and the fire. The breathing became a guttural growl, one of an animal. He turned his wide, alarmed gaze to Ladybug. “Something’s here.”

Ladybug stood slowly, drawing her sword as she faced the tunnel. Chat rose to his feet just as slowly, but she stepped in front of him, throwing her arm out to keep him from advancing. 

Chat was struck by how wrong that was. He didn’t know how to fight and possessed no weapons, but he wanted to protect Ladybug. 

Then he heard another threatening snarl and his belly turned to ice.

“Lady--” Chat started to whisper, only to be cut off by his own scream as a mountain lion leapt upon his friend. The two opponents scuffled on the ground, rolling around and through the fire, scattering coals and light everywhere. Chat dodged out of the way, skittering backward and pressing himself against the cave wall, his heart hammering in his throat.

The lion roared and then backed off as Ladybug swiped its face with her sword. Chat could practically taste the coppery scent of blood in the air. The lion lunged again, its dark claws extended.

Then the fight was over almost before it had begun. With a battle cry, Ladybug slipped under the lion in its leap, and stabbed upward, wrenching her sword between its ribs. The lion went slack, falling on top of Ladybug. 

Chat panted, his body vibrating with fear and repressed emotion. He wanted to cry. _She needs me!_ The thought galvanized his shaking muscles into action and he jumped forward to drag the dead animal off his friend. 

In the light of the scattered embers and the spelled torch, Ladybug looked spitting mad. She slithered out from under the lion and stood, her sword rattling in her trembling grip. Gritting her teeth, Ladybug turned to Chat. 

“Are you okay?” she said with a rough edge to her voice. Chat knew that if she started crying, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“I should be asking you that question!” Chat said, flinging his arms around her. Ladybug jerked in his hold, but then seemed to realize where she was. The hand not holding her bloody sword came up to cup Chat’s head.

Ladybug’s fingers threaded their way through his damp hair. “I’m okay.”

Tears stung Chat’s eyes. “Ladybug, oh, my gosh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “That was so dangerous. And the poor creature. I could have talked to it.”

Ladybug drew back, staring at him with wide eyes. “You can talk to animals?”

Chat wiped at his eyes with his fingers. “Of course. Can’t everyone?”

“No.”

“We invaded the lion’s home.” Chat whimpered. “And now it’s dead, all because we looked for shelter from the rain. I could have asked it if we could stay here.”

Ladybug frowned deeply. “I’m sorry, Chat.”

Chat sniffed. “Can we bring it back to life? Do you have any magic?”

“Aside from spelled torches, no, I don’t have any magic,” Ladybug said, glancing down at the dead animal. It had evacuated its bowels in death, so the cave was beginning to really stink. “We can bury it. Is that okay?”

Chat nodded dumbly, biting his lip.

Ladybug sheathed her sword but winced as she did so. With growing horror, Chat looked her over for injuries, searching for the source of the scent of blood. His eyes landed on her forearm. The elbow-length glove showed four identical scratches, a sweep of the lion’s claws. The cuts oozed blood; Chat felt faint.

“You’re hurt.” He took her wrist in his clawed hands, careful to not to touch the wounds. “Oh, Ladybug, you were hurt because of me.”

“It’s not your fault, Kitty.” Ladybug’s tone was far gentler than Chat thought he deserved. She cupped his cheek. “Hey. Look at me.”

Chat dragged his gaze from her lacerations to her face. 

“I’m sorry the lion is dead. You’re right, we could have asked,” Ladybug said, her eyes soft and her touch softer. “And these are just… surface wounds. I have some herbs that can help speed the healing process. And bandages. I’ll need your help to make sure the bandages are tight, okay?”

“Okay.” Chat could do this. He could help her. He wasn’t completely useless.

“And after that we’ll bury the lion.”

Chat felt numb from the eyes down. “I can go get a shovel from my home once the rain lets up. And I can ask the other animals if anyone else lives here, and whether we can use the cave.”

Ladybug’s thumb traced his cheekbone. “There’s my smart Kitty.”

Ladybug left his side and the cave, taking the reassuring warmth of her touch with her. Chat almost cried out at being left alone, but she returned quickly enough with supplies to dress her wounds.

She had a small burn on her neck where a coal had touched her, and hissed as Chat applied a yellow ointment. Other than that and the abrasions on her arm, Ladybug was unharmed. 

As she had directed him, Chat carefully peeled her glove off. He hissed at the nasty scrapes and carefully washed them out with a wet cloth. Ladybug gritted her teeth as he applied a green salve. Then Chat wrapped her arm, trying to be as gentle as he could be.

“That’s no good.” Ladybug held up her arm, where the bandage dangled. “The wrap needs to be tighter.”

Chat sucked a breath over his teeth. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Ladybug smiled at him, a smile which soon turned into a pained grimace as Chat tightened the bandage as best he could. The cloth gripped her injured arm, causing her fingers to swell slightly and turn white. 

Ladybug chuckled. “Oof, that’s probably too tight.”

“Aah, I’m never going to get this right!” Chat sighed, undoing the cloth once again. 

Ladybug shook her head, dabbing at the claw marks with the wet rag from earlier. “It’s okay, Chat. Just try, okay?”

Her scratches had started bleeding again and had stained the wrap already during Chat’s attempt to apply it. Chat cast the bloody cloth aside and unrolled a second bandage. 

“We’re lucky you had more than one of these.” Chat grunted at the way Ladybug’s pain twisted her lips as he tightened the second wrap. 

“Poor Tikki, having to carry all my stuff everywhere,” Ladybug joked, sticking her tongue out at him. “I always bring extra supplies to dress wounds and create fires.”

Chat smiled a little, feeling tension bleed out of him at her teasing. He tugged the bandage in place. Relief flooded him when she praised him. “Good, Kitty.”

Chat drew a deep breath through his nose. That turned out to be a mistake; the smell of death haunted the cave. “We still need to bury the lion. The rain’s let up, so I’ll go get a shovel.”

Ladybug picked up her sword and cleaned it off with the previous bandage. “All right. I’ll wait here for you and prepare a snack for afterwards.”

“How can you eat after burying a dead thing?”

“Trust me.” Ladybug nodded firmly. “Digging a grave will make us hungry.”

 _She’s such an enigma,_ Chat thought, wondering just what her experience with death had been to be sure about something like that. _Sometimes I feel like I don’t know her at all._

***

Ladybug had been right. Burying the lion and cleaning out the cave did, indeed, make them hungry. And tired.

Ladybug’s arm ached fiercely, but she’d refused to make Chat do most of the digging for the animal she had killed. So she’d gritted her teeth and had pushed through the sting, telling herself that she could rest afterwards.

True to his word, Chat was able to talk to animals. After Ladybug had recovered from her shock, she was able to watch him ask an owl, a rabbit, and a squirrel for the use of the cave.

The animals primly--at least, Ladybug thought it was prim; who knew with squeaks and hoots--informed Chat that the cave belonged to him and Ladybug due to the rule of the forest: kill the previous occupant and take their territory. Chat had cried, twisting Ladybug’s heart in her chest.

 _He’s so softhearted,_ she thought, patting his shoulder awkwardly as tears streamed down his cheeks. _Would that we were all like that._

After the animals dispersed, Ladybug pulled Chat aside. “Did you tell them that I am sorry for killing one of their own?”

“Yes.” Chat sniffled, scrubbing his clawed hands over his masked face. “They were… unsurprised. You’re apparently very dangerous, according to them.”

Guilt sank a stone into Ladybug’s belly. “Dangerous to animals. That’s me.”

“Hey, listen.” Chat shook his head, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips across the backs of her knuckles. “You were protecting me. You didn’t know that I could talk to animals. And the lion attacked first.”

“It did.” Ladybug felt like worms were eating away at her heart. “But I still feel guilty for killing it.”

Chat pulled her into an embrace, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Ladybug nuzzled her nose against his chest, breathing in the delicious scents of leather, soil, and his sweat. He smelled like the outdoors, wild and free, with a hint of charcoal from the fire in the cave and rainwater from the downpour earlier. She knew she probably smelled the same way.

_I’m as untamed as he is now. Talking to animals and everything._

Ladybug’s hands came up to cup Chat’s shoulder blades, and she relished in the contact, never wanting him to let her go. When he spoke, she felt the vibrations of his deep voice under her cheek. “Did you still want to play chess?”

And Ladybug laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [@sing-in-me-oh-muse](https://sing-in-me-oh-muse.tumblr.com)!
> 
> \---
> 
> Are you interested in reading or writing fanfiction? Do you draw or edit pictures or even cosplay? Are you looking for a community of like-minded and supportive people? Then join the [Miraculous Fanworks](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Discord server! 
> 
> We are always welcoming new members, and would love to see you. We offer a variety of conversations, from writing support to encouragement for your art to cosplay tips. We even have monthly server-wide events and group writing projects! 
> 
> Come join today!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette finds out news she wasn't prepared for and plans to make her father proud.

The French royal court moved around quite a bit, Marinette realized.

In the summer, Gabriel conducted court at the Palace of Versailles, requiring attendees to ride from Paris to there on a daily basis. In the fall, he held court in the Tuileries Palace in Paris. In the winter, everyone traveled to Fontainebleau Palace. 

The perfumed bodies of the courtiers and court officials crowded together in the throne room of the Tuilieries, making Marinette dizzy with the cloying, overlapping odors. Gabriel’s court was always packed.

The courtiers were a rather silly bunch, Marientte thought, after being invited to attend King Gabriel’s court to observe how the French system of government worked. It was the reason she was in France in the first place. 

The French courtiers shared everything. Menstrual cycles were frequent topics of discussion, and the women also compared their nipple piercings and hair removal technicians. For someone as private as Marinette, these open attitudes came as quite a shock.

Marinette sat on a chair near the thrones of King Gabriel and Queen Emilie. The three of them were the only people allowed to sit; everyone else must stand. The almoner, the official who was in charge of distributing money to the poor, was presenting a case to King Gabriel. 

“And with the upcoming winter, the peasantry will need additional assistance,” the almoner said, drool flying out of his mouth when he talked. Marinette agreed with him, but wished he would stop spitting in her direction. “Winter is always a difficult time for everyone, but especially the poorest among us.”

“I agree,” King Gabriel said, and turned to his intendents, the young officials responsible for overseeing the financial and political health of different regions. “How are our finances in Île-de-France?”

One intendent, a young woman with elaborately-coiffed hair, stepped forward. “The Région Parisienne is well-supplied,” she said, tossing her head and causing her locks to bounce. “Your majesties’ increased barley tax this year filled our coffers.”

King Gabriel nodded, and she stepped back. Marinette wondered what his proclamation would be, though she could probably guess.

“Princess Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel said, causing Marinette’s head to whip in his direction. “What do you think about funding the poor’s needs?”

Marinette’s heart slammed in her throat. She hadn’t expected to be asked a question in the court; her opinion as a foreigner and a princess was unnecessary. But King Gabriel apparently wanted to hear it. She hoped she didn’t look as shocked as she felt. 

Queen Emilie smiled down at her from the throne. “Go on, dear.”

Marinette drew a quick breath through her nose. She thought about her words carefully while she said them, not wanting to make a ruling in haste. “I believe funding the poor’s needs is an altruistic good.”

King Gabriel inclined his head but said nothing, so Marinette continued. “The health of the kingdom depends on the peasantry that grow our food, tend to our livestock, and sew our clothing. We depend on them, so they should be able to depend on us in their time of need.”

“Very good.” A smile accompanied Gabriel’s praise, warming Marinette from the inside out. “Now, on to the next order of business…”

 _Papa,_ Marinette thought, beaming. _I will make you proud._

***

“Marinette!” Tom said in English, approaching his daughter with open arms in the courtyard of Gabriel’s palace. Traveling during the winter was dangerous, so he had apparently chosen to come during the fall months.

Marinette, excited to see him after half a year of staying in France, lit up with a smile. 

“Papa!” Marinette said, rushing to him, her bow in her hands. She’d been practicing shooting targets, feeling as if her skills had slipped ever since she’d stopped daily practice to play with Chat. She was still planning on visiting him that afternoon. “It’s so good to see you! I’ve been waiting for so long!”

She reached her father and he wrapped her up in his arms, lifting her off her feet and squeezing her tightly. He shook her back and forth, sending her feet waggling. “It’s good to see you, too, sweetling. How are your lessons coming?”

"My lessons are fine, Papa," Marinette said, beaming down at him from her position held above him. Speaking her native language of English after six months of speaking French felt great. "My embroidery has improved and King Gabriel has invited me to observe the court."

"Pesky stuff, embroidery," Tom teased, his eyes shining. "Never could get the hang of it myself; my large fingers are more suited to baking."

"I think your fingers are lovely."

Tom laughed. "That makes one of us." He set her down and took her shoulders in his hands, his expression somber. "But I have something to tell you. Is there tea?"

Marinette nodded and led him inside the palace to a living room. "What's wrong, Papa?" Anxiety begun licking at the back of her brain. She hadn't expected her father to visit in person, so whatever he had come for had to be serious. 

Tom settled in a recliner by a roaring fire in a fireplace, turning to a servant. "Tea, please, and biscuits. Thank you." 

When Marinette continued standing, Tom told her to sit. She calmly took a seat on the floor at his feet, though if he disapproved, his feelings didn't show on his face. 

_What could he want to tell me?_ Marinette wondered, setting her bow in her lap and running her hands along the shaft in an effort to calm her nerves. 

Tom waited until their snack had arrived from the kitchens to speak. "I think it's high time your mother and I told you why we've sent you to France."

Marinette straightened her shoulders. She cradled her teacup in her lap. "I thought it was to learn how the French conduct their courts and take the knowledge back to England."

Tom shook his head, indulging in his tea. "That's part of it, but we have experts in the field for that. No," he said, and Marinette's heart beat in her palate. "You're here not to observe but to be observed."

Marinette didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean, Papa?"

Tom beamed down at her. “You’re betrothed, sweetling. Gabriel is seeing if you’re still a suitable match for his son, Adrien.”

Marinette’s stomach plummeted through the floor. “W-What?”

Tom picked up his dainty teacup and sipped at his hot drink as if he hadn’t just pulled the rug out from under his daughter. “You met Adrien once, do you recall? The arrangement between the kingdoms was made then.”

Marinette searched her memory. “Adrien the baby?”

Tom laughed. “Oh, I imagine he’s much bigger than a baby now. Nearing nineteen, in fact.”

 _What about Chat?_ Marinette clamped down on her budding tears. It wouldn’t do to shame herself in front of her father. “Do I have a choice?”

Tom winced. “Well… No? It’s an arranged marriage for a reason.”

Marinette set her undrunk tea down and placed her hand on her head. “I feel faint.”

“Oh, no,” Tom said, raising his hand to get a servant’s attention. “I’ll have you escorted to your room.”

Marinette stood on weak legs, gripping her bow. “Thank you, Papa.” She clung to the arm of the summoned servant but glanced over her shoulder at the door. “I won’t shame you.”

“I know you won’t, love.” Her father raised his teacup. “I trust you.”

Marinette swallowed hard. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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